common history…

an unmarked grave
to man’s frailty
and with
all the posturing
of mankind
this will be
his final posture
no one
will bring flowers
the tears
shed that day
will have dried
and been blown
into the sea
the dust
will be caught
upon the wind
and carried
into the fields
where new seeds
will be planted
for the occupants
of tomorrow’s

the prize…

Photograph from Google

like most
these hills
served as farms
for centuries
now the crops
are fed
with human blood
and the hills
have become priceless
to be fought over
by foreign troops
and outsiders
the farmers know
just as before
a new prize
will be declared
the hills will stand abandoned
so the mines
will be cleared
new seeds cast
upon unmarked graves
and the hills
will return
the only prize
that sustains life

the blood rose…

Image provided by Jade

as a student
i asked bapa dola
what is a blood rose
his eyes
filled with tears
slowly he spoke
a blood rose
is one that collects
all the sadness of a soul
i did not understand
but one day in haiti
i place a white rose
upon a pile of rubble
where my friend was sure
a child’ body was entombed
and before my eyes
the rose began to bleed
i asked bapa dola
why this happened
he said
beneath this rubble
lies a mother’s
second heart beat
and a father’s pride
ignored by all those entrusted
with the world’s alms
so that they may
gain more profit
like shylock they guard
those coins
letting these unmarked graves
stay here day
after day
and as i listened
the last rose i held
began to bleed
as if it felt
my pain


This is the seventh part of a series of poetry challenges between Jade ( and me. The whole idea behind it is to send a picture ( in this case by Vlad) to the other as inspiration (or visual muse, if you want to), and the other has to write a poem inspired by the image. Visit her site to see how she has responded to my sixth challenge photograph on her site.  As a note bapa dola is an african soothe sayer who has been with me in spirit since high school….he is getting very old.